“If you dare think about changing that dress, I might cry.”
She’s clearly torn, so I up the ante. “And aren’t we trying to get under their skin?”
Her expression shifts from hesitant to determined before she laughs and turns again towards the door.
“Well, we can’t have you in tears on the first day of our fake dating holiday.”
We exit the suite and wait for the lift to take us to the garden level.
The pathway to the restaurant meanders past the bay where we swam this morning, and Lil returns to chattering about the turtle, while I think about how far our relationship has come and how I have to tell her I’m not what she thinks.
I originally came into this fake dating thing with a picture of Lilavati as a strong, feisty woman. And she is. But she’s also soft and vulnerable and damaged in a way that makes my blood boil if I think about it too long. And all that combines to make me want something I’ve never wanted with anyone else. But I need to take care with her heart.
I can’t start a physical relationship with her without telling her the truth about myself. She’s just so damn tempting. I’ve never felt the kind of chemistry I have with Lilavati with any other woman. Telling her might change all that. But not telling her is wrong. I just need to find the right time.
“What do you think?” I can tell by the way she asks that I’ve missed something.
“Hmm, sorry?” All thoughts of what I need to tell her dissolve when I see the look on her face.
“I suggested that if we get up early tomorrow, we might be able to fit in a quick snorkel before breakfast and the activity for the day.”
“You really loved it, didn’t you?” She’s still sparkling from the experience. I only hope what she felt when I held her was at least a small part of her enjoyment.
“It was amazing. And if I’m going to spend the rest of the day tomorrow shopping and lunching with the Emily Brigade, I’ll need something to put me in a good mood first.”
“Yeah, golf with Warren isn’t top of my to-do list either. But an early snorkel sounds good.”
We’ve reached the point at the end of the bay where the restaurant sits.
Palm trees rustle in the evening breeze, silhouetted against the orange and magenta of a spectacular sunset as we climb the steps to the terrace. Dozens of tiki torches light up the outdoor dining area, where long tables have been set up around an open space. Servers circulate, offering us champagne and canapes from trays as we hover on the periphery. The hand I had been holding on the walk here tenses. Lil is no longer as relaxed as she was, but I guess that’s to be expected. I pull her into the shadows behind a large potted palm from where we can see everyone.
“Okay, I know your mum and Warren, and I’m guessing that’s Grandie. Presumably, the woman in white with the gold sash is Emily?”
Lilavati nods and points to a man who, even from a distance, screams dull, despite the white and gold sash he’s wearing. “That’s the groom, Julian.”
“And where is this brother everyone is so keen to set you up with?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never met him.” We both scan the crowd.
“There.” I point to someone who, sadly for him, looks a lot like Julian and is wearing a ‘Best Man to the Best of Men’ sash. “I’d bet that’s him.”
Lil makes a face like she’s tasted something nasty.
“My thoughts exactly,” I say, even though she didn’t speak. I’m about to suggest we find a drink when we’re spotted lurking behind the palm.
“Lili. Ant.” Her mother’s voice is overly excited. “You’re here, at last.” Her eyes run down Lil’s dress.
“That’s not the dress I said you should wear,” she whispers to Lil as she wedges herself between us, forcing me to let go of Lilavati’s hand.
“That’s my fault, Marion. I begged Lilavati to wear this one. It’s my favourite colour on her.” I throw Lil an adoring look to underscore my point.
“But it doesn’t match the theme,” Marion frets with a tiny headshake, lips pursed in concern. “Well, it’s too late now, I suppose.”
“Thank you,” Lil mouths from behind her mother’s shoulder as Marion takes our arms and drags us through the crowd of overdressed women and puffed-up men.
“Ant, you must meet Lili’s grandmother,” Marion confides before stopping in front of a woman who looks like an identikit picture of her that’s been aged for police identification purposes.
Same haircut. Same style. Even the same perfume, if my nose doesn’t deceive me.
